


Too Many Clothes

by Lefaym



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto expects an evening of routine alien-hunting, but Jack has a different plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Clothes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [used_songs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/used_songs/gifts).



> Many thanks to stuffphile on LJ for the beta.

Ianto tapped his fingers nervously on the sleek, smooth windowsill. The luxurious hotel room and his own image were mirrored in the glass, superimposed over the broad expanse of Cardiff Bay below. The gently rippling water reflected the lights of the city, and Ianto marvelled at how deceptively peaceful everything seemed from up here.

It was hard to believe, from this height, that hordes of weevils lurked beneath the streets, and that the bay concealed who knew how many dangerous artefacts. Ianto struggled to suppress a yawn as he tried—and failed—to remember the last time he'd taken a whole day off. He rubbed at his temples in an attempt to banish those thoughts. This evening wasn't over yet, and he needed to remain focused.

In the reflection, Ianto saw the bathroom door open behind him, and Jack stepped out, wearing only his wrist-strap and a pair of extremely skimpy black briefs. Sometimes Ianto wondered why Jack even bothered with underwear at all, but right at this moment he was more concerned about whatever might be lurking in the air vents or the service lift. Clearly, however, his boss didn't think it was a pressing issue.

Jack crossed the room, only stopping when he stood behind Ianto. His hands came to rest on Ianto's hips, and Ianto felt Jack's lips pressing against the narrow strip of exposed skin between his collar and his hairline.

"You," said Jack, his voice muffled, "are wearing far too many clothes."

"I thought I'd wait," said Ianto, unable to suppress a shiver as Jack's tongue flicked across his skin, "until you'd briefed me on our mission for this evening."

"Huh?" Jack's mouth was still busy on his neck, and his hands snaked around to Ianto's belt-buckle.

"I haven't forgotten what happened the last time a bunch of aliens caught us with our pants down," said Ianto, trying to ignore the fact that Jack was unzipping his fly. "I'd like to avoid a repeat of that tonight, if possible."

Ianto's neck suddenly felt cool as Jack pulled away from him. "There aren't going to be any aliens tonight," he said, his voice low.

"But, then why—" Ianto felt his brow begin to furrow. Jack raised his hands to Ianto's shoulders, and Ianto found himself being turned around one hundred and eighty degrees.

"Ianto," said Jack slowly, "you do realise that this is a _date_, right?"

A wave of heat broke over Ianto's face. "Oh," he said, and then all at once wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Ianto?"

"I—" Ianto struggled to gather his thoughts together. "I just assumed—I mean—we don't usually do things like this, unless there's a reason for it."

"Wanting to take you out isn't a reason?"

"A work reason," Ianto said.

They'd tried the dating thing, back when Jack had returned from those months away with the Doctor, but after half a dozen attempts that were interrupted by Rift alarms, or weevils, or giant mice, they'd reached an unspoken agreement to stop trying. It wasn't so bad, after all, to spend the night together at the Hub or at Ianto's flat, and the Rift seemed to be kinder to them when they weren't aiming for more than a shag and a bit of Chinese take-away.

Apparently, however, Jack hadn't given up on the idea of something fancier.

"I thought," said Ianto quietly, "that aliens had infiltrated the restaurant or something, and they had their base in this hotel. I figured you'd tell me the details when I needed to know."

Jack sighed, and his arms slipped down from Ianto's shoulders. He stepped forward, so that he stood beside Ianto, looking out the window. "Right," he said.

"It looks like I was wrong." Ianto closed his eyes and wished that he could rewind the last couple of minutes and have another go at them (God, he could have been undressed by now), but that wasn't going to happen, so instead Ianto turned and tentatively raised his hand to Jack's elbow. Jack didn't seem to acknowledge the touch, but he didn't pull away from it either, to Ianto's relief.

For a few moments, Jack stood still, and then he spoke. "You said last week that you wanted to sleep overlooking the water somewhere. Somewhere without weevils."

Ianto drew in a sharp breath. He _had_ said that, he remembered. He'd just thought that Jack hadn't taken much notice of it.

"And," Jack continued, "I know you like French food, so..." He shrugged.

Ianto winced. "Shit," he said, letting his hand fall back to his side. "I've gone and fucked up the whole evening now, haven't I?"

"I dunno," said Jack, his head finally turning towards Ianto. "Have you?"

Ianto couldn't tell if Jack was angry or making and offer of reconciliation. He swallowed hard. "I suppose," he said carefully, "we could pretend..."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes," said Ianto, his voice stronger. "We could pretend that you've just come out of the bathroom, and that I didn't say anything stupid." _And I'll pretend that I didn't spend the entire dinner worrying that something malicious was watching us_.

"And what would that involve?" Jack asked, and to Ianto's relief, the right corner of Jack's mouth turned upwards.

"Well," said Ianto, "you were standing behind me..."

Jack shifted, and Ianto automatically turned so that he was once again looking out the window. Moments later, he felt Jack's warm body pressing against his back.

"And your arms were around me..." Ianto continued.

Jack's hands slipped around Ianto's waist, one of them coming to rest on his stomach, the other dipping lower, slipping beneath the waistband of Ianto's pants. Ianto leaned back into the embrace and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jack," he said.

"Sorry?" said Jack, his tongue darting out to tease at Ianto's earlobe. "What for?"

Ianto felt himself relax for the first time that evening. "For wearing too many clothes," he replied.

"Hmmm," said Jack. "How about we make a deal? You let me take your clothes off now—" his hand dipped deeper into Ianto's pants, "—and we'll never mention it again."

Ianto smiled. "Sounds good to me," he said.


End file.
